Poems (Acton)/Peace
For works with similar titles, see Peace.
PEACE.
Oh! hidden sojourner amid earth's shade,
So oft a stranger where its gifts are laid—
So wildly worshipp'd in thy distant sphere,
So lightly treasur'd in thy beauty near—
Flying the bosom where ambition reigns,
To thrill the life-blood of a peasant's veins—
To wreathe with flow'rs Toil's oft heart-galling chains—
Whence art thou?
So oft a stranger where its gifts are laid—
So wildly worshipp'd in thy distant sphere,
So lightly treasur'd in thy beauty near—
Flying the bosom where ambition reigns,
To thrill the life-blood of a peasant's veins—
To wreathe with flow'rs Toil's oft heart-galling chains—
Whence art thou?
To the lone captive, in his hour of death—
To the reft watcher of a parting breath—
When the heart's latest blessing is removed—
When we are taught to doubt where we have lov'd—
When we have sown our trust, and reap'd despair—
When we have gather'd weeds from flowers fair—
When we have garner'd, at the last, but care,
Why com'st thou?
To the reft watcher of a parting breath—
When the heart's latest blessing is removed—
When we are taught to doubt where we have lov'd—
When we have sown our trust, and reap'd despair—
When we have gather'd weeds from flowers fair—
When we have garner'd, at the last, but care,
Why com'st thou?
On the pure eyes that seek for thee thou break'st;
To the high hearts that call on thee thou speak'st.
Where thou art stay'd by prayer from passing fast—
Where thou art held the first boon and the last—
Planting the tree of Faith where had grown Fear—
Bringing Hope's smile to check Affliction's tear—
From that bright land whose skies are ever clear,
Thence art thou.
R. A.
To the high hearts that call on thee thou speak'st.
Where thou art stay'd by prayer from passing fast—
Where thou art held the first boon and the last—
Planting the tree of Faith where had grown Fear—
Bringing Hope's smile to check Affliction's tear—
From that bright land whose skies are ever clear,
Thence art thou.
R. A.